


heart of russet gold

by redledgers



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 05:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11006937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redledgers/pseuds/redledgers
Summary: The wolf is spotted outside the Westruun farms, and perhaps it must be removed.





	heart of russet gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cinderfell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderfell/gifts).



_The change at first is painful, but she figures out soon enough how to let it happen peacefully, and so every month she roams the forest with unquenchable ferocity_.

 

Pike is grateful she’s awake this time of day, up with the sun to travel to the temple or sometimes simply make breakfast for her, Wilhand, and Grog. She’s not sure where Grog is this morning; he didn’t come home last night, but she’s not worried, even with someone knocking on her door. She wipes her hands on her apron and after a second, takes it off. The knocking comes again, more insistent now.

“Coming!” she calls, hurrying to the front door as fast as she can. Instinctively she looks up when she opens the door and sees a grizzled middle-aged man standing there. “Is everything alright?” Usually insistent knocking came with a need for the town’s best healer. Sometimes it was because Grog had forgotten to pay his tab at the tavern.

“Is Strongjaw around?” the man asks, looking down as if he was surprised to see someone shorter than expected.

So it was about paying tabs. “He’s not, but is there anything I can do?”

“Got a proposition for you. The name’s Mar Greylock.”

Pike stops him then and steps back into the house. “Come on inside.” She directs him to the cushions on the floor in one corner of the house, and vanishes into the kitchen to re-heat the tea she’d brewed earlier. “What is your proposition?” she asks, coming back into the room and setting a tray on the floor. She pours two cups of tea.

Mar looks around at their humble home, then takes a long drink. “I live just outside the town, with the other farmers. We got a creature snatching livestock or something. Some folks are sayin’ it’s a big wolf, but it might be one of them werewolves.”

“Oh.” Pike thinks for a moment. “Has it taken any of your animals?”

Mar shakes his head. “Dunno if they’re actually missin’ or if some local boys have been taking them, but a big wolf has been seen creepin’ around. Was told Grog might be able to do something about it, maybe you too, since you’re a holy woman and all.”

Well, she didn’t know about being a holy woman just yet, but she knew she could fight and it’d give Grog something to do. “I’ll let Grog know when he comes back, but I think we could do something to protect your animals. Even if it is from some ragtag kids.”

She thinks she can see the man smiling as he finishes his tea. “Thank you…” he trails off for a moment, wracking his brain for her name. “Pike. Thanks muchly, ma’am. Come find us out in the fields when you got time.” He looks as if he wants to stay a bit longer, but she knows the farmers in Westruun are restless fellows during the winter season, and he must have a lot of work to do now in the spring.

Pike smiles brightly at him and shows him out with the promise to come by later that day. And then she waits for Grog, studies while the bread is baking, Wilhand comes in from the backyard and eats with her, and soon enough, she’s heading across town with Grog.

“Really? Werewolves?” Grog had a deep fascination of the creatures after a story Wilhand had told them as children. Pike had found every bit of lore she could on them, and had dismissed her fear that Grog would find a way to become one after he said he wanted to fight one. “Must be real strong,” he’d said one night. “If they really are that big I wanna see how big they are when they see me.”

Mar Greylock tells them about the sightings, a large russet wolf-like animal that slinks through the trees at dusk. It’s not just on the full moon either, Pike notices that the creature appears a day or so before or after as well. But there’s a lot she doesn’t know about werewolves, so she’s willing to entertain the idea. They agree to drive it out somehow, and Grog hopes for a fight (“Without killing it, Grog,” Pike makes him promise). Still, she asks the farmers to post watches every night beginning in two weeks, before the full moon.

 

 _The changes are smooth, as if she were born to do it, and she has some control during the week of the full moon, when she can slip in and out during the day. But at night, everything is different_.

 

They spend two days keeping watch, Pike in the early dawn hours, Grog at dusk, and both of them through the night. There’s nothing but the rustling of the nighttime breeze through the trees and the soft noises of the livestock settling down for sleep. It’s pleasant, really, and Pike had forgotten how much she liked camping with Wilhand as a child. This paled in comparison, but it’s a nice taste of a time on the road. She’s forgotten how special it is to lay out and look at the stars instead of stand at the door and look up. The sun is pleasant during the day, a reminder of her goddess.

On the third day, Grog spots what could have been a large fox if not for the duller color. In the morning, they track it as best they can to the middle of the forest, down some rabbit trails and sometimes circling back around to find any indicators when things get too crowded. Pike feels turned around, lost, and she wonders if this was just a waste of time. The creature hadn’t taken any livestock, nor could they find remains of any woodland creatures on any of the trails it left behind. Grog, on the other hand, seems excited to have something to do outside of his usual routine of work and visiting the taverns.

She’s feeling frustrated the whole night while the full moon looms overhead illuminating everything. Sometime around midnight, a wolf howls, but still they see nothing, as if it knows they’re watching and waiting. But the day after, she spots it again at dusk, just as the sun is cresting down over the horizon, and she jostles Grog. “We’re going now! We can track it right now!” She gathers up her things and dashes toward the last place she saw it. Grog follows after, his lumbering footfalls heavy and loud behind her as he catches up easily.

The wolf moves quickly and the nearly full moon makes it easier to see in the darkening woods, a red streak through the underbrush. Pike trips once and Grog scoops her up, lets her spot from afar as he plows through the underbrush. She remembers to keep her head down as best she can. But something distracts him, and he skids to a halt and turns toward a clearing they’d come across the first time they tried to track it.

 

 _She’s been on the move so long, chased out of towns and lost and lonely, and these woods are a good place to live, full of life and vibrancy, and enough space to hide for five days a month_. _And so she keeps an eye on the moon always_.

 

It’s easy to see now: the woman sitting cross-legged in the mossy brush, a bird cupped between her hands. Pike isn’t even surprised—Grog usually took a second look at most women that passed through Westruun. But this time even Pike caught herself looking a bit longer. Sat like that, the woman was gangly, almost like a newborn deer, and she reacted as one too, making for the forest when Grog stepped on an errant plant. Pike slithers down and dashes into the clearing. “Hello! Sorry, we didn’t mean to startle you,” she says, and she feels so damn cliché for saying it. But she also feels bad for intruding and scaring someone who looked like she belonged in the forest at dusk.

The woman goes still, on high alert, and looks back at where Pike and Grog are now standing at the center of the clearing. And she is beautiful, long red hair falling down to her waist, brown skin, and a simple flowing dress that is somehow not tangled with leaves. Pike takes a minute to breathe. “Um, have you by chance seen a wolf pass by?”

There’s a flash of fur and the acrid scent of something Pike can’t place, and the woman is gone, but not before Grog points out the retreating tail. She’s scared then, and she is the werewolf. Grog seems somewhat satisfied with their discovery, but Pike isn’t sure what to do about the whole thing. Clearly a conversation needs to happen, but it isn’t happening tonight. “Come on, Grog. I think we have our answer.” Pike makes note of the clearing’s location and vows to come back the following night, just before dusk.

The pair wander back to the farms at the same time two skinny teenage boys are hushing each other and pushing a stubborn donkey through a gate. “You there!” Grog calls, voice echoing across the land. The boys run, but Grog catches them easily, much easier than chasing a wolf. They hurriedly apologize and when Pike arrives, she gives them a stern talking to. When they’ve gone, the mystery is solved, at least. She had promised not to tell, so it was best she told Greylock and the other farmers that it was the werewolf. Pike hated lying too, but she also knew that the lands far beyond Westruun weren’t always the best for people trying to get by.

Wilhand is waiting up for them when they arrive, and Pike accepts the dinner he made thankfully (yesterday, perhaps; she suspects he had been waiting up every night). It wasn’t like they’d been away for too long, both she and Grog had stopped back at the house, but to Wilhand, it was the fact of the matter. And so he waited. “We found the wolf,” she says when she’s halfway through her bowl of stew.

“Oh, was it magnificent? Did you scare it away with your ferocious yell?” Wilhand leans closer, his storytelling mind already looking for the ways heroes always vanquished the wolf that roamed among the people. But Pike has discovered that the stories aren’t always completely true.

“It was fast,” Grog says, reaching for a second bowl. “Big fucker, real pretty too.” And Pike is tired enough that anything else that’s said fades into the background while she cleans up and changes and crawls into her soft bed (oh yes, she may have missed camping, but she missed this more).

She wakes with the sun and walks to the small temple at the center of town. She spends quiet minutes re-setting the altar and contemplating what would be best for everyone. Killing the werewolf had always been out of the question, but now with the opportunity to find it again and talk to it…there might be a way to learn more about them as a whole, or at least understand what this one wanted. She feels as if there’s no right answer to her ponderings, no immediate guidance, and it’s weird. There was some expectation of a feeling after prayer, one that was supposed to guide. But Sarenrae was silent, and so Pike decided a talk really was the best thing to do.

Mar Greylock is there to greet her when she arrives home, and she invites him in for breakfast. “I’ll just have tea again, ma’am. Came to see about the situation.” He takes off his hat this time, and sits patiently while she goes about the motions pulling together some warm bread and cheese and brewing up tea.

“I don’t think you’ll be having any more problems,” she says, handing him a mug and sitting down. “And if you do start having more livestock disappear, set up an intermittent watch.” Pike doesn’t realize how hungry she’d been until she takes a bite of her food.

“Sounds doable.” Mar scuffs his boots on the wood floor. “Is the beast gone, then?”

“Well, no.” Pike knows better than to make excuses. They’d see it eventually, and there’s no mistaking the howling of any wolf, werewolf or not. “But it’s fine. We’re keeping an eye out.”

 Grog enters then and Mar stands up to shake his hand. “Me an’ the boys wanna see you down at Maeve’s tavern, say thanks for stopping the wolf. I’ll see ‘bout rounding them up for tonight.”

Grog looks at Pike, confused, but she makes a “go along with it” motion, and so he grins down at Mar. “I’ll be there,” Grog replies.

Wilhand peeks out of his room, rubbing sleep off his face, and Mar is left to answer questions about the harvest and the livestock, while Pike slips back off to the kitchen. Grog follows her and sits on the ground, watching as she gathers food to make two lunches. “You’re goin’ back out?”

Her hands still as she’s wrapping up apples and meat. “We stopped the livestock from disappearing, but I still want to talk to the wolf, if she didn’t run off for good.” When all Grog does is nod, she resumes packing, gathers the parcels of food and a waterskin to her chest, and goes to her room to put them in her pack. And still, Grog follows, watching quietly. Mar has left by then, and Wilhand gone out to the back garden, so there is no one to ask as she repacks her bag. A book, a blanket, a tin cup, and a small flask of something she’s not entirely sure what it is are tucked neatly around the food. Pike shoulders the pack and looks at Grog. “If I’m not back by tomorrow morning, look for me.”

He lets her go because they have been siblings and best friends for long enough that he knows she will do what she’s put her heart to. Pike Trickfoot has the biggest heart of all the Trickfoots, and quite possibly the biggest heart in the land. Pike makes her way carefully out past the farms, into the forest again. The clearing is easy to find, and in the daylight it is bright and cheery, sunlight streaming through the surrounding trees and creating dappled patterns on the ground. She spreads the blanket in the center of the clearing and sets out everything in her pack neatly. Better to spend the day in quiet meditation or reading if the wolf doesn’t show.

 

 _She still searches, finds it easier and easier to control over the years, but she must always be on the move until she completes her task and returns home_.

 

The wolf comes when the afternoon sun is hanging low over the western part of the sky. Pike has eaten her apple already and was halfway through her book when she realizes she’s being watched. She closes the book slowly and looks up to see the red-haired woman standing at the edge of the clearing, watching her. Pike says nothing and instead clears a space on the blanket and unwraps the second lunch she had prepared. She sits patiently, watching as the woman makes her way toward the blanket, everything about her the opposite to what a werewolf was supposed to be like.

She sits down on the grass just by the edge of the blanket and picks everything up one by one. The apple is inspected, as is the bread and meat and cheese. And then she eats everything except for the meat the way someone who is holding themself back from devouring it all might eat. When she is finished, she pulls her knees against her chest and looks at Pike.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, and if Pike hadn’t been paying attention, she might have missed it. There’s nothing malicious about her: her only feral attributes were refined around unfamiliar company. But Pike can see her eyeing the second half wrapped bundle, and she offers over her bread and cheese in exchange for the meat the woman left behind. “Why are you back?” she asks around a mouthful of bread.

Pike waits until she’s finished eating before she replies. “I was curious. And I wanted to talk. My name’s Pike.” She wonders, briefly, if the woman had ever been given a name, or if the wolf had changed it.

The woman considers her, the blanket, their surroundings. “Keyleth.”

“Hi Keyleth.” Pike eats the meat. Sitting here with the woman is like coaxing a wild animal to eat from her hand. She supposes that it’s not even akin to, and it actually is, depending on how one wanted to classify creatures. She offers the waterskin next, and Keyleth drinks greedily. The tips of pointed ears peek through her hair.

Swallowing down her last gulp, Keyleth looks at Pike, her head cocked to the side. “Why are you looking for the wolf?”

So Pike tells her about the concerned farmers, the boys who were really stealing the flocks, and that she was worried the farmers would see the wolf around and take measures into their own hands.

Keyleth wrinkles her nose. “I don’t like meat,” she says. “I won’t even eat it in my wolf form. It took a bit to get used to that, but it’s been long enough that I can control myself. And when I came here, nothing changed.”

That much had been evident from their encounter the night before. Pike had a multitude of questions, but she didn’t want to overwhelm the woman. She hummed and chose her next question carefully. “How long have you been here? A few weeks?”

Keyleth looks up at the sky. She bites her lip before reaching up. A bird flutters down to perch on her fingertip. “A month. Maybe longer. It’s all a bit jumbled afterward, when the moon is not full. I should be moving soon, but this forest is lovely.”

It was, now that Pike had actually spent more time in it. Before she can ask a more reasonable question, she blurts out, “Do you live here then? You can come home with me if you like.” A month in the forest seemed lonely, and even though she can see the bird still perched and happy on Keyleth’s finger, animal companionship didn’t do as much as human…well, interaction with people did.

Keyleth startles again and the bird flutters away. “I’m sorry?” Pike wonders if she’s going to shift again, like she did the day before. She wonders about the logistics of it all, how much the full moon actually matters, how far a wolf could travel in a day. But Keyleth doesn’t turn, even if she is wary. “What for?”

Pike shrugs. “A roof, food, protection, and maybe we can help you with your journey? If you want, don’t feel obligated.”

It takes less time than Pike guessed for Keyleth to say, “Okay!” and stand. She looks down expectantly, and suddenly Pike is self conscious as she carefully packs her bag.

 

_She feels more comfortable in the wilderness, because it understands her. It understands the nature of the in between sometimes, and it welcomes her most of the time._

 

They go to Wilhand’s house the long way around, far enough away from the farms and the center of town so that any curious person wondering about the stranger wouldn’t have the opportunity. Keyleth chatters on about the forest and Pike understands that she’s comfortable now, enough so that she rambles on for the entire three quarters of an hour it takes them to reach the door. She’d probably keep going if Pike hadn’t tapped her thigh to stop. Inside, she hears Grog scraping away at something, leather probably (and he really ought to do it outside, but sometimes he forgot), and from the back, she hears what sounds like Wilhand carving in the backyard. It’s safe enough.

Grog looks up when they walk in and almost drops his tools. Keyleth wrinkles her nose at the scent of the fresh tanned leather, and Pike makes to apologize. But Grog cuts her off with a short hello, and then goes back to his work.

“Grog, this is Keyleth.” Pike waits patiently for him to look up again. “She’s going to be hanging around here for a bit.”

To his credit, Grog doesn’t make any comments other than to return Keyleth’s enthusiastic wave. “He’s very tall,” she whispers loudly, bending down a little as Pike brings her further into the house into her own room.

As far as gnomes go, Pike was used to being shorter than most people, especially with Grog as an older brother. But when Keyleth straightened, she realized the woman was at least six feet tall. She sets her bag on her bed and looks around. There’s enough space that Keyleth could take her bed and she could fabricate something against the wall, or sleep in the common space. The one guest room Wilhand kept was old and stale, and Pike was too tired to clean it today. She doubted Keyleth would mind either.

Keyleth sits on the floor and looks around the room. Pike can see better without the harsh sun, and she notices the freckles smattered across Keyleth’s skin, the whorls of some charcoal colored tattoo on her shoulders. “Were the farmers really scared of me?” she asks when it seems her inspection of the room was satisfactory.

“We haven’t had many dealings with magical creatures here recently,” Pike admits. “The animals in the forest know better than to venture too far out, aside from harts and foxes.”

Keyleth lays back and stares at the ceiling. “I’ll turn tonight, but only from dusk until dawn. Then I’ll be fine until the next full moon.” She frowns. “How do you sleep without seeing the moon every night?”

Oh. Pike hadn’t thought about the prospect of having a werewolf in the house. “Well…” Her gaze wanders around the room and settles on the window. “Actually, you can rest your head against the window sill and see the stars. It’s not like out in the farms, but the moon hangs there still.”

“Huh.” Keyleth seems unwilling to talk more, just lays there, and so Pike unpacks her bag, leaving the book on the bed in case the other woman might want to read it, and goes to the kitchen. She surveys what they have in the pantry and decides to bake a second loaf of bread and start on a stew. She’d just eaten, but it’d take a while to simmer, and Keyleth might still be hungry.

Grog comes in for some ale and peeks into the stewpot. “Needs some meat,” he says, reaching for the barrel of smoked meats.

“She doesn’t eat meat,” Pike says, standing in front of it. “You can have some in your own bowl.”

“Why’s she here?” It’s not a patronizing question; rather it’s one of curiosity.

“I offered her a place to stay that wasn’t outdoors, and she said yes. I didn’t know she was going to turn tonight as well, so we’ll have to figure something out to distract Pawpaw.”

“You think she’ll let me wrestle her?” When Pike frowns, he frowns back. “Could see if I can best her in a fight or two.”

“Maybe not today,” is all Pike says, and she puts the lid back on the stewpot and goes to pull the extra blankets they use in winter out of the chest beside the fireplace. The food would be ready before dusk, and then she’d have to figure out what to do with a wolf in the house.

Keyleth is still sprawled on the floor when Pike returned, but she was asleep. Pike tiptoes as best she can and sets up a little sleeping space for herself in the corner by the window. And after an hour, she wakes Keyleth as gently as possible, shaking her shoulder. “I made dinner, if you’re hungry.” Keyleth jumps up, nearly knocking Pike backwards. There’s no evidence that she knows how to control her limbs even though she appears to be in her twenties.

Laughing, Pike tells her to go sit in the common room. She ladles two bowls of stew and brings them in on a tray with the fresh cut loaf of bread. Keyleth accepts the bowl gratefully, and Pike sits cross-legged on the floor across from her. “There’s no meat,” she says.

“It’s good,” Keyleth replies, drinking the broth straight from the bowl before she realizes there’s a spoon available. Sheepishly, she switches. “Thank you.”

Before Pike can reply, Wilhand comes into the room, scattering wood shavings in the back doorway. “Oh hello!” he says, peering at the stranger across from Pike. “Would you like some tea?”

“Pawpaw, this is Keyleth, and she’s a friend. She’s passing through and is staying with us for a little bit. Keyleth, this is my grandfather, Wilhand.”

Keyleth sets down the piece of bread she’s torn in half and waves. But she stays quiet, a little unsure, and Pike knows it’s because this is someone who didn’t see her change the night before.

“Is there tea, then?” He comes closer.

“No, but I can make you some. There’s vegetable stew and salted meat.” Pike puts down her bowl. “Let me get you some.”

Wilhand puts his hand up. “Not quite yet, Pike. I must go to the temple.” He turns to Keyleth and waves again. “Stay as long as you’d like.”

“He’s very nice,” Keyleth says once Wilhand had cleaned up and left for Sarenrae’s temple. “I like him.”

Pike has come to the conclusion that she’s a fairly keen observer, and wonders where that came from. Either that or she’s incredibly optimistic about everything. Pike can’t figure out which she likes better. To say that she hadn’t grown fond of Keyleth over the past few hours would be a lie. But there’s still something she needs to worry about. “Keyleth, I…you said you were going to change again tonight. How does that work?”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” she says cheerily, finishing her food. “On the fifth night it’s fine. I won’t be a nuisance at all, I can even go outside.” She gets up and walks into the kitchen, returning with a second bowl. “I promise if you’re uncomfortable with it, it’s okay I can go back to the forest.”

“That’s….not necessary. Really. As long as you stay in my room and don’t let Grog talk you into wrestling, not this time around.” At Keyleth’s frightened look, Pike clarifies. “He likes a good fight and he’s always been interested in werewolves.”

The rest of their dinner is quiet, and Keyleth glances at the windows and the door every so often. Pike thinks she’s mapping an escape route, but Keyleth only retreats back into Pike’s bedroom after cleaning her dishes. Pike follows, mostly curious, and Keyleth has curled on the blanket pile in the corner, Pike’s book in her hands. “I was going to let you have the bed tonight,” she says for lack of something better to say.

“This is very comfortable,” Keyleth replies. She puts down the book and looks out the window. “I can see the sky from here.”

The sun sets an hour later, when Pike is reading another book and Keyleth is looking out the window. She doesn’t know what she expects from the transformation, but her curiosity was the only reason she was still in the room.

There’s a grunt and a shift and Pike looks over to see the giant russet wolf watching her, tongue out and panting lightly. And then it—she—rolls in the blankets and settles down, resting her head on her paws. Pike just stares. In this form, she could probably ride on Keyleth’s back if she wanted to. She’s huge and the amount of blankets Pike had brought aren’t nearly enough to do any good on the ground for the bulk of the wolf.

“Um, Keyleth? Are you sure you don’t want to be on the bed? There’s more room.” Pike had begged for a larger bed as a child, and Wilhand happily helped her make it. She loved having the extra space and she knows Keyleth would fit comfortably on it curled up. There’s a moment she’s not sure if Keyleth heard her, and she’s about to say it again when the wolf swishes her tail, stands tall, and pads over to sniff at the bed. She huffs and leaps on, startling Pike to the edge, and tests the softness. It’s something Pike has seen many animals do, and when she’s satisfied, Keyleth flops down and looks at her.

Pike is small enough that there is still space for her should she want to stay, but the prospect of sharing a bed with what could be a vicious wolf (no, she isn’t vicious, she’s calm and tired like a dog) scares her. She slips off the bed with a pillow and can’t avoid the gaze of Keyleth as she rearranges the blankets into something more fit for sleeping. “If you need anything, just wake me up,” she says quietly.

Keyleth just watches her.

 

_Later, she learns why there are those who are frightened, but the pack moves on and so she must find a new way through the wilderness._

 

She’s beautiful in the morning sunlight in the middle of the month, stretched out and still asleep. Pike rises early again and attends to the temple, and when she returns, the scent of fresh bread wafts out from the house. Keyleth greets her with hot tea and sets everything on the new table Wilhand has made. Grog has taught her how to be, whether his advice was directly useful or not, and she has won this for herself.

There’s plans to move along in a few days, to continue the search for answers and completion, but this time Keyleth will have companions, people who she can be true with and who enjoy her graces. She was lost before, but now she’s finding her way once again. Together they learn more about the wolves. At the next full moon, Pike scratches Keyleth’s ruff, laughs when her face is licked, and watches her roam about the forest in search of new and interesting things. When they are spotted, when chaos arises from it, there is death and fleeing, but it is all for the drama of it. Grog gets his wish, tests his strength against a werewolf, and Pike laughs at the ridiculousness of this new adventure.

**Author's Note:**

> happy woof keyleth licks!! so happy wiggles. many snuggles very soft fur very happy.
> 
>  
> 
> hap birth kaity u beast look at this word count.


End file.
